


Secrets & the Quick Study

by TigerLilyNoh



Series: The Uncomfortable Adventures of Sam in Law School [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Double Life, Drugs, Law Student Sam, M/M, Sam Winchester-centric, Sam-Centric, Student Sam, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 19:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerLilyNoh/pseuds/TigerLilyNoh
Summary: Series theme: Sam chose law school over hunting, but it wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined it.This episode: Sam spends some time with Brady and has difficulty keeping secrets from him.





	Secrets & the Quick Study

Sam woke up in the late morning or early afternoon judging by the ample sunlight streaming in through the dorm room’s cheap plastic blinds.  He couldn't tell what time it was, but he felt like his poor luck almost certainly made it as late as possible.  His hand clumsily searched his nightstand for his phone as he began worrying about what classes he'd inevitably missed.  Before he could find it, Brady reached across him, intertwined his fingers with Sam’s, and pulled Sam’s hand back, embracing him in a hug.  Sam was too tired to put up a fight against the profoundly needed act of affection, so he just let Brady spoon him.

“You're staying home today.”  Brady informed him.  “I emailed your professors this morning and told them how you had an exhausting night being a fucking hero.”

“You didn't need to tell them about that.”  Sam replied while half burying his face into his pillow from embarrassment.

“One of them is giving you an extra day on your take home midterm.”  Brady countered.  “You can thank me by actually staying in this bed.  You looked like shit last night, which is really saying something considering you're even fuckable in sweatpants.”

“I'm behind in half my classes.”  Sam eyed the small pile of textbooks from across the room.

“Get lecture recordings from a classmate.  I'm sure someone owes you favors, you altruistic overachiever.  But for today, you can study in bed.”  Brady kissed the back of Sam's neck and moved in closer.  Sam could feel the tip of Brady's partially hard dick rub against the back of his thigh.

“I'm not feeling up for sex right now.”  He politely warned.

“Then you're probably too tired for studying also.”  Brady pulled back a bit.  “Go back to sleep before I tie you down and things get kinky.”

“Wait a second,”  Sam propped himself up on an elbow and glanced over his shoulder down at Brady at a realization.  Brady's eyebrows rose with interest at what might possibly be a change of heart when it came to Sam's pass on sex.  Sam rolled his eyes, immediately recognizing Brady's thought process for what it was.  The guy was attentive, but he also could have a one track mind.  “Don't you have classes?  I know worry isn't in your vocabulary, but aren't you worried about midterms?”

“I'm worried about you.”  Brady gently dragged the tip of his nose along Sam's shoulder, up his neck, finishing with a kiss just below Sam's jaw.  “You're more important than the rest of it.”

“You're not using me as an excuse to blow off school.”  Sam guessed.

“Just for a day.  I'm allowed to have multitudes.”  The corner of Brady's lip curled up.  “I'll study with you later.  We can play our little game from undergrad.”

“Later?”

“I'm gonna go run some errands, starting with buying some food for your fridge.  Unless you want to keep eating saltine crackers seasoned with sriracha when I'm not around.”  Brady’s eyes lit up a bit and his voice turned ominously smooth.  “You know, I keep quite the well stocked kitchen at my apartment.  I still remember how you like your omelette-”

“Can we talk about this another time?”  It was Sam's turn to evade. He started pulling the bedding over his head and faked a yawn, averting the segue into a conversation about moving in together.

“Get some rest, I'll be back in an hour or two.”

* * *

Sam watched Brady get dressed with a small ache of regret.  He wasn’t planning on resting anymore, there was too much to do.  It felt like lying to Brady was becoming a painfully common occurrence.  Despite the discomfort he felt about lying, he didn’t want it to get easier.  He wanted to be honest as much as he could.  Hiding his true self had always been a cold distance between him and nearly everyone he’d ever known.  He wanted to limit that whenever possible, to stay as close to Brady as possible without endangering either of them.  The last thing they needed was for Brady to decide that Sam had suffered a mental break and have a psychiatric hold placed on him or to react in such a way that might attract the attention of hunters.  

Just to be safe, Sam waited a minute after Brady had closed the dorm room door before getting out of bed.  He grabbed his laptop and opened up the password protected user account that he was using to research the flip side.  He made some notes about what had happened the night before with the girl.  That had been a very strange new development- well, all new developments were strange by the very nature of his situation.  Though being able to see her death without her being connected to him was significant.  

Bhavya had suggested that maybe his powers would be more broadly applicable, but he wasn’t expecting any change to happen so suddenly.  It could’ve been a fluke, maybe he’d been able to foresee imminent deaths for awhile and the girl was the first one he’d run across?  Maybe he was getting- he wasn’t sure if stronger was the right word.  He didn’t feel stronger.  Granted he wasn’t sure whether his depressive period had blinded him to any changes in himself- but still…  He glanced back at his bed, then quickly took advantage of Brady’s absence to destroy some evidence.  

By the time Brady had gotten him back to his room last night, Sam had been completely exhausted.  He’d been too tired to covertly take his meds, so he’d just settled for an inconspicuous few pills that would provide at least minimal relief.  On two occasions a vision had woken him up, but thankfully whatever jostling he might’ve done hadn’t woken Brady.  The second vision had been particular violent and when he sat up the unmistakable feeling of a drop of blood trickling from his nostril nearly sent him into a panic.  After grabbing a tissue and checking to make sure he hadn’t bled on his pillowcase, Sam hid the bloody tissue under the mattress.  Now with Brady gone, he extracted the balled up tissue, dropped it in an ashtray, then burnt it with his lighter.  

Sam let himself feel like shit as the tissue ignited, glowing orange before fizzling to ash.  Hiding his symptoms like that was ever-rising on the list of things he regretted, but it was such a confusing situation.  It wasn’t helped by the fact that Brady was in medical school and would relentlessly investigate any sort of illness Sam might have.  A few month ago that in and of itself was reason for Sam not to tell him, trying to avoid having their personal lives become entangled again, but they’d ended up becoming entangled all the same.  Now though, the fear was that in the process of trying to figure out what was wrong with him, Brady might stumble on Sam’s powers.  Watching the last of the tissue’s fleeting embers die out, Sam absentmindedly touched his nose, checking for dried blood even though he rationally knew that Brady would’ve mentioned any that had been left over.

With the tissue destroyed, he returned to the table in order to continue his research while his privacy lasted.  He reread the entry in his journal describing the vision with the woman that almost died, then tried to focus on triggering a vision, but nothing happened.  Despite his apparent ability to change the events in his visions it seemed he wasn't any closer to being able to induce a vision.  Whether he was more powerful or not, he evidently wasn’t making progress on the control front.  He pushed that small measure of helplessness to the side and starting checking the various websites he’d bookmarked for local flip side current events.

One of his previous forum posts about being a psychic had a reply that caught his attention.  The commenter's grandmother was in her last days after a long battle with esophageal cancer and was unable to speak.  Her family was trying to find someone that was capable of helping her communicate with them.  Sam chewed his lip as he reread the request.  He wasn't sure whether his powers could do something like that even if he was able to control them.  It was possible all he'd be able to do for them would be telling them what her death would look like, but it's not like that'd be particularly helpful for a deathbed scenario.  

Despite his limitations he wanted to help or reply- but doubt whispered in his ear that it very well could've been a trap.  He started typing a response offering his condolences and explaining why he couldn't meet with them, then he stopped himself.  They'd probably try to convince him to come, beg him to come.  With a small pang of guilt he erased his apology and left the website.  He opened up his notes, then left himself some reminders to look for opportunities to safely test that potential aspect of his powers.  Maybe eventually he could help people in similar situations, as long as they were safely referred to him through a known contact?  

He sighed at the thought that maybe his calling in life would end up being an estate planner.  But surely there was some professional ethics problems involved when the person preparing your will has already foreseen your death?  Sam glanced at his Wills & Trusts textbook with newfound interest and the desire to temporarily avoid matters of actual life & death.  

* * *

“Category is Intestate Succession.”  Brady held the flashcard up.  “A woman has a kid with her first husband, they get divorced, & she remarries.  She has two more kids with the new husband.  She dies.  Who gets what?”

They were both laying on Sam's bed along with five textbooks, three supplements, & an assortment of notes.  When Brady had returned, they'd had a quick lunch of La Victoria’s tacos, then started studying at Sam's request.  In order to buy Brady's cooperation they had turned their study session into their traditional game.  Between rounds, Sam occasionally made additions to his notes, but Brady spent more time rolling papers than reviewing papers.  Brady lit a joint, took a hit, then held it out to Sam.

“Tell me that’s sativa.”  Sam accepted the joint, but didn’t try it right away.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna sloth-roofie you just to win the game.”  Brady shrugged, then grinned mischievously.  “Not that there are ever losers.”

“I’m just nervous.”  Sam admitted, then took a hit to help calm his nerves.  “Missing a whole day with my first exam in two days-”

“You’re doing great, now shut up and answer the question.”  Brady flicked the flashcard with his finger.  “Dead mom, who gets what?”

“One and two kids… intestate…”  Sam chewed on his pencil while running through the problem in his head.  “Check the corner of the card.  There's gotta be more facts.”

“Oh, it says ’UPC’ & ‘major’ in the bottom right corner.”  Brady added.

“Okay, the first $150,000 goes to the second husband, plus half of whatever’s left over, and the remainder gets split three ways between the kids.”

“Shit, Sam.”  Brady squinted at the back of the flashcard.  “I can't read your shorthand.”

“You're the one learning to be a doctor.  I thought you took a class in illegible writing.”  Sam grabbed the card, read the notes, then smiled.  “Point for me.”

“Alright, let me mark it.”  Brady added another tally to the list.  “You broke thirty points-”

“I'm cashing in.”  Sam said, enthused by the fast pace with which he'd scored sufficient points to win the game.  As much as Brady had been been trying to nurture Sam's ego, the objective measure of getting thirty correct answers out of thirty three questions had given him a nice self-esteem boost.  He pushed aside the textbook & binder on his lap, then looked at Brady with candid anticipation.

“Wait, I'm within five points.  We're going into overtime.”  Brady grinned.

“Come on, it's been a long day.  Don't be a tease.”

“I'll blow you either way, just give me another shot.”  Brady licked his lips suggestively, but he was eyeing the deck of Pharmacology flashcards.  “I know there's some Endocrinology cards coming up in my deck.  I can almost taste it.”

“Alright, we’re doing overtime- but if I win you blow me, I pick the position, and you have to make the run to pick up dinner while I stay here.”  Sam gave as the stakes of the wager.

“Damn straight you're staying here, when I get done with you, you won't be able to walk for a week.”  Brady leaned over Sam and started playfully grinding against him.

“Big talk.”  Sam rolled his eyes, then pulled a card from Brady's deck.  “Category is Pharmacokinetics.”

“Yeah, talk dirty to me.”  Brady snapped his teeth in jest as he returned to his side of the bed.

“What are the metabolism, biological half-life, & excretion of Methimazole?”

“Metabolism is hepatic, half-life is…”  Brady hesitated trying to remember.  Sam began undoing his pants and stroking himself as a tease.  “six hours?”

“And excretion?”  Sam stopped playing with himself, but didn't take his hand out of his pants in the hopes that Brady would miss the last part of the question.

“Renal?”

“Point for you.”  Sam said flatly, removed his hand and reclined on the bed waiting for the next round.

* * *

They only made to two more rounds going head-to-head before Brady faltered on a question, ending the game.  Sam collected his prizes over the course of the afternoon & evening.  When they were done having sex they both stretched out on his bed.  Brady took a few seconds to watch him thoughtfully before snuggled up against Sam like the old days- head pillowed by Sam's shoulder, arms wrapped around each other, Brady's fingertips gently drifting aimlessly across Sam's skin.

It felt like they really were a couple again.  The thought was bittersweet.  In many ways Brady was one of the best things that had ever happened to him.  He was smart, funny, handsome, and completely devoted to Sam- in some respects almost too much so.  Brady was protective of & affectionate toward him in a way that he wasn't used to growing up.  Sam supposed the small amount of discomfort he felt when Brady worried about him could’ve been a bigger commentary on himself than Brady.  Whatever character flaws Brady might have, he always did try to take care of Sam and that stirred a little hope.

He wanted to talk with someone, to be able to freely share everything that was going on with him.  Back when he’d been with both Jessica & Brady in undergrad, he’d been able to become so close to them.  The supernatural world had been such a small part of his life back then.  Maybe he hadn’t told them everything, but the secrets were so much easier to bear when they were memories shrinking in the rearview mirror.  But now it had all come back and maintaining his secrets were emotionally harder.  He supposed that he could talk to Stacy, but he hardly knew her.  Brady may have been a civilian, yet he seemed to care enough that he might be willing to listen to even abstract struggles- Sam's previous attempts to explain his anxiety & depressive periods to Brady had been rather abstract and Brady had been patient.

“Do you ever feel like you can't escape your past?”  Sam asked in a quiet voice.

“What happened?”  Brady rolled over to look at him in concern.  “Did your dad do something?”

“No, nothing like that.”  Sam assured.  Even the slightest hint of wrongdoing by John had a way of getting Brady agitated, even if the stories were years old.  “I've just been thinking about everything…”

“You want to talk about it?”  Brady asked, body still tense with concern.

“The way things were growing up… Sometimes I can't believe I got out.  I'll wake up in the night and for a second I’m scared I'm still there.”

“That's why you need me here more-”  Brady started another predictable pitch for them to live together, but became derailed by an opportunity to make a teasing joke.  “I mean, I hope you didn't wake up with naked guys in your bed as a kid-”  

Sam shoved Brady slightly harder than what might constitute playfully.

“Not funny.”  Sam warned, then added.  “It wasn't like that.”

“What's wrong?”  Brady's tone returned to a more serious attentiveness.  Sam abruptly shooting down the joke underscored the fact that something really was bothering him- not to mention with the little glimpses Brady had heard about Sam's childhood, the joke was in even worse taste than normal.  Sam may not have been molested as a child, but his early attraction to men combined with all the homophobic comments & mistreatments by his dad left Sam feeling very uncomfortable with his sexual upbringing.  Brady had an inkling of this and was generally respectful, but evidently the appeal of a low hanging fruit had proved too much.

“Growing up, it was just one thing after another.  We were constantly moving and things felt like they would never get better- like I was cursed or broken.  I couldn't do anything right.”  Sam tried not to dwell too long on the legitimacy of those concerns.  “I've felt really good about school, like I fit and I can just focus on something- I can be good at something and be proud of myself.  But everything's kinda piled up and I don't feel like I’m who I need to be right now.  I need to be some better person- I know I need to believe in myself.  I want to believe in myself, but-”

“You're doing better than anyone else, real or hypothetical, that's basically a given.”  Brady countered.

“You like me too much to be a fair judge of that.”

“I _love_ you _too much_ because you're smarter, harder-working,  & more capable than everyone else.”  Brady told him firmly.  “You know I can't stand idiots & whiners- I definitely wouldn't fuck one.”

“Way to directly link my self-esteem to your sexual desire for me.  That can't possibly go wrong.”  Sam said sarcastically, though Brady's comments had been a bit comforting.  There had to be some reason why someone like Brady was so infatuated with him.  Brady wasn’t exactly known to indulge in charity cases.  Sam kissed Brady.  “Potentially self-worth crippling metrics aside, I appreciate what you said.  You know I just sometimes feel like I've got an uphill climb ahead of me and it can make me feel...  Thank you for always having my back.”

“I'm pretty fond of your back.”  Brady joked while grabbing Sam's bare ass.  “Don't worry about the uphill climb.  You're the best there ever was.  I know someday you'll conquer the world.”

* * *

“I have classes all day tomorrow, but I can pick up dinner and bring it over in the evening.”  Brady offered as he nestled into his designated pillow for any extended stay.  

They’d both had a late night highlighted by Sam’s interaction with the girl, and while Sam had slept in, Brady had apparently gotten up early enough to contact Sam’s professors.  Then Brady had run some errands, followed by an afternoon & evening of studying interspersed with more than a little physical exercise.  With every passing minute it became clearer that Brady would be spending the night there unless Sam directly asked him to leave and Sam wasn’t prepared to do that when Brady had so impressively earned his fatigue.

On some level the offer of Brady dropping by tomorrow with dinner sounded great, but it also gave Sam pause.  Unless something outrageous happened in the next hour or two, Brady was probably going to be spending the night again for the second night in a row.  Expanding that to three consecutive nights was a major step in their relationship.  Sam couldn't even remember the last time they'd spent consecutive nights together- He supposed right before their big fight back at Stanford.  In addition to the implications a third night had on their relationship, Sam also wanted to have his space to research the flip side some more.  Though he reminded himself that he needed to be careful not to isolate himself and risk his depression getting a better grip on him.

“With midterms coming up, I think I really need to just hunker down for the next few days.”  Sam waved his hand in a nonchalant manner, trying to subtly reassure Brady.  “You know how I get.”

“Promise me you’ll remember to eat & sleep.”  Brady reluctantly let him off the hook.  “If I come back this weekend and you're a fucking skeleton I'm gonna be pissed.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.”  Sam swore, appeasing Brady for the moment, then continued reading through some class notes.  After no more than ten minutes Sam could feel a poorly timed migraine coming on to undercut his plea for autonomy.  Sam shifted, trying to discreetly apply pressure to his left temple in order to lessen the pain, but when it proved too much he climbed out of bed.  He poured himself a glass of water, then started digging through his backpack for his pills.

“Are you okay?”  Brady shifted in the bed to get a better view of him and eyed him suspiciously.

“It's nothing.  Just a headache.”

“That's the second one since I picked you up last night.”  Brady observed pointedly, then spread out on the bed a bit more as if to silently suggest that he should get settled in at Sam’s place.

“Stress headache.”  Sam offered as an excuse with a brief shrug, then zipped up his backpack while rubbing his neck.  “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Brady sat up a bit more in bed, grabbed a joint from the nightstand, lit it, took a starting puff.  He gestured for Sam to return to bed.  When Sam got back into bed Brady repositioned in order to give Sam a neck rub.  Sam slouched down slightly to accommodate his only 6’2” partner and leaned back to rest his head on Brady's shoulder.  Without Sam even asking for it, Brady plucked the joint from his mouth and gave it to Sam.

“Your neck feels like it’s carved out of wood.”  Brady commented, then pressed.  “Anything else stressing you out?”

“Aside from classes, the Stacy thing scared me.”  Sam referred to having had sex with her without discussing it with Brady first.  Luckily, that hadn’t proved to be as much of a problem as he’d worried.  Unfortunately, Brady’s understanding on the issue left it a weak justification for his stress.

“I had to check your calendar to know which professors to email.”  Brady continued to massage Sam's neck & shoulders.  Sam tried not to let himself tense as he began imagining what Brady had found on his computer.  “You made a locked account on your laptop.”

“I’m working on something- trying to put something together.  It's a surprise.”  Sam came up with an excuse that would hopefully give him time & flexibility.  It almost wasn't even a lie.  In a perfect- no, in some better world Sam would eventually have enough of gasp on what was happening to him to share it with Brady.  That felt like the greatest gift he could give someone, that level of vulnerability.

“Is it a present?”  Brady asked.  When Sam didn't answer he hummed excitedly apparently mistaking the silence for acknowledgment.  “Do I get a hint?”

“Shit, don't start asking me stuff like that.  It's barely an idea and I haven't figured it out.”  Sam took another nervous hit.  “You're gonna make me anxious.”

“You already are anxious.”

“I'm stressed, not anxious.”  Sam corrected before adding with less certainty.  “I'm not avoiding things.”

“You're avoiding telling me about your secret project-”  Sam turned around and started poking Brady's bare chest in faux annoyance.

“I told you to back off.”  Sam gently bit Brady’s collarbone and began playfully wrestling with him.  “Now I have to physically subdue you.”

“You aren’t discouraging me.”  Brady warned, then raised his hands in surrender, being promptly pinned to the bed by Sam.  “I give up.  I give up.”

After making sure that Brady had submitted, Sam got up to crack the window and let some of the smoke out.  Before he could undo the window’s latch he saw a familiar & unwelcome sight.  An orange tabby cat was stretched out on a concrete path in the quad laying in the glow of a walkway light.  It looked up at him with a feline smile as it happily whipped its tail back & forth.  Sam felt like all the blood might’ve drained from his body.

“What’s wrong?”  Brady ask as he pulled himself up from the bed to see what Sam had been looking at.

“Nothing.”  Sam replied hastily, try to stop Brady from seeing or being seen by the cat.  Brady peeked out the window, then furrowed his brow.  When Sam glanced back out the window the cat was nowhere to be seen.

“You need to work on the whole relaxing thing more.”  Brady said as he stared skeptically at Sam, then pulled him back into the bed.  “You look like you saw a ghost.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've realized that I have some foundation that needs to be established before I can progress much further temporally, which is why Sam doesn't dwell a ton in this episode. Part of me feels a bit :/ about pivoting to focus on school more right after such a major personal struggle/powers development, but like Sam I'm having to juggle school in his life along with all the other stuff.


End file.
